


Renaissance

by orphan_account



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Angst, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-13
Updated: 2011-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-18 01:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/183406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lelouch, Suzaku, Nunnally, and the rebuilding of a nation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Renaissance

  
_. requiem ._   


Cool. Calm. Collected.

A beautifully constructed mask, a flawlessly executed façade.

There was no room for hesitation, none at all for a half-hearted will, half-hearted resolve. If this was what needed to be done, then that was what he would do.

A sacrifice, a payment, one life lost for many more stolen.

There wasn't time to stop and think, only to _do_.

Because no matter what, he would not lose without gaining his redemption.

  
_. rebirth ._   


It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair, it wasn't fair—

A continuous soundtrack, playing over and over again in his mind; not quite at the back of it but faint and whispering regardless.

It was so much easier than he ever thought it would be, just let the mind disconnect and the body take over; ignore emotion, thought, human feeling—

Even if it's irreversible.

Feel the flesh finally give away and the slick sound of blood spilling fills the air, staining it, the heavy silence being broken.

The soft whisper, the gentle press of a wet palm against the _mask_ ; that's what it all came down to in the end. Always.

And then pulling back, glancing forward, hardly seeing but know what is out there.

 _Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero! Zero!_ —

A thud. A scratching noise. A scream. And then it's all he can hear.

It's over.

  
_. reformation ._   


A small bird flutters by, disrupting the stream of sunshine filtering in; casting a petite shadow over the prettily embroidered rug.

She sighs.

A long, weary exhalation of breathe, conveying in its molecules all the exhaustion felt by her fragile body, her overworked mind. She is tired but it is too late to stop now; it was too late to stop then.

It is not her job, cannot be called her responsibility to deal with the repercussions of her brother's actions, but then again, it can.

Because it was her brother, _her_ brother, her lovely brother, with glossy hair and pale skin and delicate lashes, a beautiful manner and a shining intellect—

And a horrible temperance, and a selfish disposition, and an utter lack or care for humanity as a whole, no matter what he ever said.

The sunlight then hits her face, and the glint of it off of the polished tea-set is too much to bear.

A bell chimes as a reminder of a meeting to done this afternoon, and no more thought is expedited on what once was and what will never be.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of a series of drabbles I had started writing in December of 2008, and only found today. I believe that I had intended to write more in different POVs and extend the timeline in which these drabbles take place, but alas, that will never be now. I only wanted to upload this portion for nothing if not posterity.


End file.
